


A Collection of Thedas Love Stories

by shutupfour



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, Love Stories, Multi, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26828647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupfour/pseuds/shutupfour
Summary: just a collection of one shots of things I think of while i grind for power in the hinterlands. topics vary but mostly fluff :)
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 20





	1. Let Me Worry

**Author's Note:**

> still writing fic like i was ten years ago except now i have a fancy degree from a college that says i can write fic professionally. there will probably be more of these and if you want you can leave requests. im unemployed and so bored

Cullen hunched over the war table. He was going over information on venatori activity in the Western Approach when a new wave of nausea hit. He slapped the report back on top of the most recent stack delivered. Honestly, he had read enough for today anyway. It was always something new.

He grabbed the edges of the table, squeezing his eyes shut. His head hurt like hell. The sunlight was too much today, and it forced him to rain check on his daily sword work with his forces. They would understand, but he knew he was failing them. Sure, they had taken care of the Warden’s demon army and put a stop to the threats on Celene’s life, but Corypheus was still out there. If the troops weren’t well enough prepared, they were doomed. Cullen imagined hundreds of dead men around him, dismembered and bleeding, leaving Cullen standing in a river of red under a green lit storm. Another wave of nausea hit. 

Cullen was useless on days like these. He was mostly capable of working through the pain and lyrium withdrawals with little less than a distant thought, but there were times when his body burned him alive, his skin boiling beneath goosebumps and a cold sweat. Hot and cold, sick to the stomach, a constricted throat; his mind often went to dark places. He didn’t want to worry Cassandra by putting her in charge of his state and lyrium usage, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to decide for himself if it ever came down to it. It was also the main reason he never asked Trevelyan to be the one to step up to him if things went wrong. He had seen men lose their minds to lyrium, and he wanted to make sure he would never experience that lack of control, or let Trevelyan see him that way. 

Though, if Cullen kept his eyes closed, he could picture exactly where he hid the ornamental box holding his lyrium kit. Today was so bad. Maybe, just a little bit, just to take the edge off…

If there was a knock at the door, Cullen hadn’t heard it. He jumped back, surprised to feel something gripping his arm. He opened his eyes to see the inquisitor.

“Maker’s Breath! I- I didn’t see you there, I-”

Trevelyan let out a small laugh. “You looked pretty focused when I came in. What were you thinking about?”

“Oh, well…” Cullen put his hand to the back of his neck. “I was just going over today’s field report from the West...”

“Oh?” Trevelyan slid behind Cullen and wrapped her arms around his front. They barely clasped around his armor. “Anything I should know?” She rest her head on his fur cloaked shoulder. 

“Not at present. We are working with Dorian and Harding to see what we can do to gain a foothold in the Hissing Wastes and Western Approach.” Cullen let one hand leave the desk to grab Trevelyan’s. He had little idea what the report was even about, and even less energy to continue trying to read past the first page. 

“How many venatori agents are we talking? Dorian briefed me the other day, he was worried our troops might be overrun.” Trevelyan squeezed her arms. Cullen wished his armor weren’t in the way. As bad as these days were, Trevelyan always managed to take Cullen away from his thoughts and searing pain. 

“Nothing we can’t handle, inquisitor.”

“Inquisitor? How formal.” Trevelyan spun Cullen around to face her, placing his hands on her hips.

Cullen chuckled. “Sorry. Habit.” He gripped at the fabric on her coat. “Anyway. What brings you to the war room?”

“I was looking for you. I went to the training grounds and your men told me I could find you here instead.” Trevelyan took his face in her hands, running her thumb along his lips. “Are you alright?”

Cullen reached one hand to cover hers on his face. He wouldn’t let her worry about him over this. “Of course.”

Trevelyan gave him a look. “Bad day?” She whispered.

Cullen tried to not look as ruffled as he felt. “I’m not quite sure I-“ 

“Cullen, you never skip sword practice.” He knew she was no fool. 

”True enough.” He laughed, and after a moment his face softened. “It’s only a flare up. I’m fine, I promise.”

“You don’t have to be tough around me, Cullen.” 

He took a shaky breath and leaned into Trevelyan's touch. “I know.”

“Well,” Trevelyan traced her fingers along the top of Cullen’s cheek before sliding her hand off his face. “I think we’ve done enough work for today. Don’t you?”

Cullen thought of his abandoned report. “You may be right.” 

Trevelyan smiled. Maker’s Breath, her smile was the brightest he’d ever seen. 

“Great," she said. "Now, I have something to show you.” She pulled at his hands, leading him out of the war room and down the hall. “Come on. It’s in your quarters.”

They stopped short at the door to Cullen’s part of the tower. It was shut, and as Cullen was reaching up to the handle, Trevelyan swat his hand away. “Close your eyes, first.”

Cullen huffed, but shut his eyes. “What is this all about?”

“You’ll find out, I just wanted this to be somewhat a surprise.” Trevelyan swung the door open, guided Cullen inside, and shut it behind them. There was a moment of shuffling and silence, then, “Okay! Open your eyes.”

Cullen opened them, but couldn’t see much. It was so dark. “Wait… it’s dark in here?”

“Yes! I fixed that hole in your roof.”

“When?” Cullen was in disbelief. He’d been putting off reconstruction of his quarters for so long they were no longer thought of. 

“I started this morning after you left for your work. I didn’t really have many other matters to attend.” Trevelyan hopped to sit on top his desk. 

Cullen walked over to her. “I can’t believe you did that for me. I’m certain there were other things that needed your attention today.” He parted her legs and stood between them. 

“I thought it might be good to have it a little darker in here. You know, for your migraines. Cause you spend so much time in here.” Trevelyan ran a hand through his hair and wrapped her legs around him to pull him in closer. “I also noticed you were… hurting today." 

“I-“ Cullen closed his eyes. “Thank you, my love. I appreciate this more than you know.” 

“I want to help you anyway I can. You know you can talk to me about it.”

Cullen sighed. “My problems don’t need to be your problems. I wish I wouldn’t worry you so much.”

“I care about you,” Trevelyan pulled back to look at Cullen straight on. “A lot. I _want_ to worry about you.”

Cullen’s gaze drifted down. It felt so strange to open up. He had never told anyone of the Blight aftermath until he told her. Weaknesses were just one other way for others to hurt you. It was weakness that was used to torture him at the circle and it was weakness that dangled in front of Cullen and tempted him with lyrium on his worst days. He couldn’t do this forever, and he didn’t want Trevelyan to see the day his weakness would finally take him over. 

“I want to share your problems. I want to see you grow from them. Let me help you fight these battles, Cullen. You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

“Alright.” Cullen said. Trevelyan let out a breath and clung to Cullen in another hug. Cullen held her back, squeezing tightly. He wasn’t sure why he answered so quickly, but he _was_ sure he _couldn’t_ do this forever. Or alone.


	2. Wicked Eyes, Only Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im stuck in cullen hell. also we were cheated out of a lot of cute shit with the winter palace. i thought i was playing a dating sim not an action adventure rpg

_Maker’s Breath, where is she?_ The third bell rang out, and Cullen still hadn’t seen Trevelyan reenter the ballroom. His mind raced, going to the worst places. Was there a hold up? Were they in danger? Cullen had been ready to act all evening, but dreaded the thought of actually having to run to her aid. Everything needed to go smoothly tonight, or the inquisition would lose a hefty alliance with Orlais. Her tardiness to the dance wouldn’t bode well with the court, either, and they already weren’t too fond of her circle origins. Cullen hoped the inquisitor showed soon. So much was at stake. 

Cullen flicked his eyes across the room for what felt like the hundredth time, trying to see between the mob of people that had formed around him when he entered the hall earlier that night. 

“Monsiuer! You _must_ tell me who is responsible for your _coiffure_ ,” Cullen dodged a masked man’s hand reaching for his head. “It is perfectly splendid.”

“I, uh-“ Cullen could hardly think of anything but the inquisitor. “I… I style it myself.”

“Zut alors! _You_ have done this? Le petit templier fait ses cheveux? _Comme c’est beau_.” Cullen’s face went red. The Orlesian continued to dote with the others crowded around him, giggling Orlesian flirts and coos. 

Cullen thought about fetching Leliana to check on the inquisitor, but as soon as he started looking for an out from his crowd, the doors of the ballroom swung open, revealing, finally, the inquisitor. Cullen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. It took a lot from him to not shove past his admirers and run to Trevelyan’s side; As anxious as he was to dive into Orlesian politics, he had worried about her. He knew how ugly the Game was. 

By the grace of the Maker, the inquisitor turned towards Cullen and made her way to him. She had little idea the trouble she was saving him from having to actually get through the crowd. She took her place by his side and reached for Cullen’s hand, lacing her fingers with his behind his back. Cullen felt himself relax his shoulders. 

“I’m glad to see you, inquisitor.” Cullen squeezed his hand. 

“Ditto,” Trevelyan glanced around Cullen and smirked. “Y’know, I think this crowd is bigger than last time I saw you. You’re quite popular.”

Cullen groaned. “You have no idea. And like I said before,” he looked at his feet before continuing. Maker, she made him nervous. “You’re the only one here whom I care about.” Trevelyan blushed.

“Have you found anything?” Cullen whispered.

Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. “Plenty. I need to see Leliana about what we found in the servant’s quarters, but the wings have been searched and cleared. Except the royal wing. This is deeper than I thought. Than I think we all thought, to be honest.”

“Deeper? What exactly are we up against?”

Trevelyan turned Cullen away from the room. “Like I said, I need to go over some things with Leliana to be sure. But… we’ve reasonable suspicion that Briala has agents here and is working things to her own advantage. I’m not entirely sure what that means for Celene, though.”

Cullen huffed air out his nose. “Somehow I’m not surprised. What makes you think she’s conspiring?”

“We ran into her in the servant’s quarters. That’s why I was late coming back here.”

“I wonder what she’s up to. She could be working with Gaspard or Florianne.”

“That’s what Solas, Dorian and I think. Speaking of Gaspard and Florianne… who do you think should come out tonight? This is all so crazy now. I’m a mage, not a politician. I’ve little idea what I’m doing outside the circle, let alone playing the Game. I’m not even Orlesian.” Trevelyan ran a hand through her hair. 

“Well, Celene’s been empress for years now, so she has the experience, and she seems to be a good fit for Orlais; she’s popular with the people. But all things considered, Gaspard is competent in militancy. That might be what Orlais needs now so Thedas can survive Corypheus.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t make it easier for me to choose. Perhaps I’m just not court material. It’s not like I was fawned over in the first place.”

Cullen thought for a moment. “This bell was to begin the dancing. Approach the grand duchess for a waltz. If you get in close with her, I’ll bet you have a good chance of changing things with the court if you play coy.” Cullen softened his face and lowered his voice. “I truly don’t think you have anything to worry about, my dear. If it puts your mind at ease, just know the only thing that needs to happen tonight is the inquisition walking away with an ally. It doesn’t matter which party you end up deciding to have on the throne.”

Trevelyan sighed. “Thank you, Cullen.” She squeezed his hand. “I’d hate to leave you, but I need to see Leliana before I woo Florianne.”

“I’ll see you later?”

“Probably.” Trevelyan smiled, winking one of her crinkled eyes. She turned to go, but stopped midstep. “Actually, Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if perhaps… well, if maybe you’d save me a dance this evening. I understand I’m not first in line,” Trevelyan smiled again, glancing to his gathering of admirers. 

Cullen’s face flushed, and he caught himself before he could say no reactively. He had been hounded all night about dancing from everyone it seemed, but Trevelyan. And, truthfully, he had never done much of it. The last thing he wanted was to purposely embarrass himself in front of Trevelyan. He felt he was fully capable of that without cause. “They never taught us to dance in Templar training.”

“They never taught us in the circle, either.” Trevelyan was still smiling, but her face fell enough for Cullen to notice he’d hurt her feelings. “You don’t have to, I just thought it might complete our night of frights, or like our Halamshiral bucket list.”

“Now hold on. I never said I wouldn’t dance. I just said I was never taught. If you’re fine with a partner with two left feet, I would heavily consider it.”

“A partner with two left feet would go perfectly well with my two right feet.”

“Then I’d love to dance with you. I only ask that we wait until later,” The corner of Cullen’s mouth tugged into a smirk. “I’d much rather have you to myself. Without the eyes of everyone else.” 

“I think I can wait.”

Cullen brought the inquisitor’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Good luck.” Cullen’s admirers had immediately stopped talking, and stared at Cullen with gaping mouths. Cullen heard Trevelyan laugh as she walked away. 

Trevelyan and Leliana didn’t meet for very long, and soon Florianne was leading Trevelyan down the stairs to the dance floor. Cullen knew she would turn her favor. 

Cullen moved to the banister and watched while the grand duchess and inquisitor buzzed around the other dancers. Florianne was very good. Cullen could have guessed that she had plenty of practice. He was equally impressed with the inquisitor, however. It was clear she had no formal training, but Trevelyan kept her step in time with the music. She never faltered in her footwork. It might have looked a bit mechanic, but Cullen couldn’t blame her, and he was sure he couldn’t have been the only one amongst the nobles to have noticed. She was gaining traction with the court. 

As Trevelyan and Florianne danced, it became more obvious that everyone was watching them. Cullen looked around him to find that the banister was no longer empty--dozens of faces leaned over the rails to try and get a look at the inquisitor. He knew they would wonder what they were saying. The dance floor was far enough away from earshot and the orchestra played perfectly loud enough to drown the sounds of secrets out from unwanted listeners. Cullen could tell the inquisitor was being cheeky, though. He knew that smile anywhere. Whatever she was saying didn’t matter; Florianne was licking it all up. He wasn’t sure he could blame the duchess for it, either. The inquisitor had wit sharper than Varric on odd days. 

After the dancing ended, Trevelyan approached Cullen. “How did I do?” She asked.

“You were terribly charming. I think half the ballroom has eyes for you, now. I’d better watch out.” 

Trevelyan laughed. “You wouldn’t have anything to worry about, commander. _I_ only have eyes for _you_.”

“And I for you.” He resisted the urge to kiss her. Now wasn’t the time. “Anyway, now that the dancing is over we need more information on Gaspard and Briala. Whoever we ally with tonight will need something to convince the rest of the court to side with us. I can cover for you if you’d like while you’re gone.”

Trevelyan sighed. “You’re a treasure. Leliana said it might be smart to check the royal wing. I’ll go gather everyone and head out,” She began to turn and stopped herself short again. “You’re still up for a dance later? I’d much rather it be you than Florianne. She’s good, but Andraste’s Tit, her grip is tight. I think my side is bruised.”

Cullen laughed, and reached for one of Trevelyan’s hands, cupping it in both of his. “It’d be my pleasure, my lady,” He dropped her hand and bowed. “I’m going to run though. While you investigate for dirt, I’m going to go over some things with Josephine and Leliana. Please be safe.”

“I’ll try. See you soon. Be ready.” Trevelyan smirked at Cullen before turning and heading for the doors to the main hall of the palace. 

oOo

Celene stepped away from the balcony of the ballroom, allowing the cheering and merriness to continue. Cullen instinctively looked for the inquisitor. He found her already walking toward him down the hall. 

“You must be psychic. It’s like you know exactly when I’m looking for you.” Cullen said as she approached. 

“I am a mage, you know. We have a fade connection. All the little fade sprits tell me what you’re thinking all the time. Cole especially.” Cullen’s face went white, and Trevelyan laughed. “I’m only kidding, sweets,” She went in to hug him. “Well, about the little fade spirits. Cole talks to me all the time.” She felt Cullen go rigid, and she laughed again.

“All… good things, I hope?” He said. 

“Only the best.” Trevelyan pulled back from Cullen. “Meet me on the balcony with the bar in ten?”

“Of course.” Cullen kissed her hand once more, and she sauntered away to where Dorian beckoned her. He had two glasses of champagne in his hands, and if Trevelyan hadn’t taken one from him, Cullen would have gathered they were both for Dorian. 

Cullen finished his mingling with the other nobles and made his social escape to the balcony where Trevelyan stood waiting. The moon sat high in the sky now, the night no longer young and dim. What was an early evening hue upon entering Halamshiral was now a black void, lit by hundreds of stars and a waning crescent strip. Trevelyan leaned against the balcony rails, beaming and glowing even after tonight’s events. Maker’s Breath, how she shone. 

Cullen walked over to the table with the drinks, trying to push back a sudden bout of nervousness. He was grateful Trevelyan had chosen this particular balcony. He grabbed two more glasses and brought them to where she was posed. 

“Champagne?” He said, outstretching a glass. 

Trevelyan turned to face him and smiled when he met her gaze. “Thank you.”

“Shall we cheers?” 

“I love the dramatics of a cheers.”

“What are we cheering? Besides the obvious success of tonight,” Cullen motioned his head toward the palace. “We have plenty of celebration for saving Celene’s life and removing Gaspard and Briala as threats happening inside.”

The inquisitor switched the weight on her heels and swished her champagne around her glass, pondering it. After a moment, she turned back to Cullen. “I’d like to cheers to _us_.” She said _us_ with particular grace, accentuating it. “I never thought I would meet someone like you, especially here, and considering what we were before all of this… well, to say my life has changed for the better, even in light of everything, might even be an understatement.”

Cullen’s heart beat so hard he thought it might come out of his chest. He had never felt this way about anyone before. To think that she felt the same way.. it was everything. “To _us_.” Cullen raised his champagne to the stars. 

Trevelyan put her glass to Cullen’s and took a sip. 

“Cullen.. can I ask you something?” Trevelyan leaned back against the railing.

“You can ask me anything.” He took up a spot near her.

“When this is over, assuming we survive against Corypheus… what will you do after? Are you going back to Kirkwall?”

“Kirkwall? Well, I.. I guess I hadn’t really thought of it.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Something flicked through Trevelyan’s eyes, but her expression never faltered. “I don’t think I would go back to Kirkwall though.”

“If you could do anything, then. What would you do?” 

Cullen paused and looked over the balcony to the mountains, taking another sip from his glass. “I would help other Templars with their lyrium addictions. I wouldn’t be able to do this alone…” He reached for Trevelyan’s hand again. “And they shouldn’t have to either.”

“I think that’s very admirable,” Trevelyan brought her glass to her lips. “You have a big heart, Cullen.”

“What will you do after this is all over?”

“I want to get a dog.” Trevelyan said pointedly. 

“A dog?”

“Yes. We were forbidden to have pets in the circle, and I’ve always wanted one.”

Cullen laughed. “I can understand that. I’ll admit… I’ve always wanted one too. What else would you do though, when this is over? Where will you go? Back to Ostwick?” 

“No. I don’t think I want to go back there for a while.” Trevelyan took another sip. “I can do whatever I want now that the circle is disbanded. Maybe I’ll travel. Do some backpacking, see the countryside. I’ve loved seeing Thedas these last few months, even if it’s been work related. I bet the Hinterlands are gorgeous in autumn.”

“Well,” Cullen finished his glass. “I think traveling sounds like a wonderful way to start a new life out of the circle.”

“I think so too. The world is so big. It’s so much bigger than I thought.” Trevelyan gave her glass a look, paused, and threw it back. As well as she tried to hide it, her face twitched after she swallowed. “Actually, um. I was thinking maybe you’d come with me.”

Cullen’s face burned. He felt an ache in his stomach. “You would.. have me with you? Traveling?”

“I mean, unless that’s not something that appeals to you. I just.. well, to be honest I thought it would be more fun to do it with you. But I get it if that’s not what you want, or, if—”

“I’d follow you anywhere, my love. If you want to go, then I’ll go, too.”

“Wait, really?” Trevelyan’s eyes went wide. 

“Of course. On the condition that I also get a dog.”

Trevelyan smiled wide. “I think I can manage that." She paused a moment. "Let me help you with your templar safe haven.”

"You.. would want that? To help templars, even after.." 

"Cullen, I think you and I are perfect proof templars and mages don't have to be enemies. We're more than where we come from. I insist that I help you see this through."

Cullen's heart thud, though he wasn't sure it had stopped since he'd walked onto the balcony. "Thank you." 

Cullen heard the orchestra begin a new song from inside, and stepped away from the balcony, taking Trevelyan’s empty glass and placing them both on one of the tables. “So. How about that dance?”

Trevelyan gave Cullen her right hand, and her left met his chest. He held her close at the waist, and was pleasantly surprised at how easy moving with her was. Trevelyan followed Cullen’s lead, swaying and stepping in time with him and the cry of the violin. Cullen closed his eyes, and was sure for a moment that they were dancing up with the moon, hanging by a thread at the tip of the crescent. Their waltz was guided by the stars, hopping from one silver pinprick to another, following them as footwork directions. The constellations waltzed with them, twirling with Trevelyan and changing step with Cullen. Old Dalish tales filling the celestial ballroom, twinkling and spinning near Dwarven ones. Old Ferelden legends took the hands of old Tevinter ones, guiding each other through number after number. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im having a lot of fun writing these so im going to keep doing it. if you want something specific just ask :) thanks for reading yall, it really means a lot <3


	3. that time Dorian and the Inquisitor were allowed to go to a ball alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i just loveeeee the friendship you can have with dorian as a lady inquisitor. i really wish the devs gave us more of that content but i have to do everything myself huh

“What about _them_ , inquisitor? Do you think he’s given _her_ the time?” Dorian elbowed her arm to point her at a pair of young Orlesian nobles.

She nodded in agreement. “Oh, absolutely. More than once, I’d say, too.” 

“My thoughts, exactly. Sort of hard to think otherwise when they haven’t been any less than a foot apart all evening.” 

The inquisitor gasped, dramatically bringing her hand to her face. “That sounds almost prude of you, Dorian. I’m surprised.”

“Oh, please. Prude? No. Disappointed it’s made our game easy? Incredibly so.”

“Well, if you think our game’s gone stale, I have something else in mind we can do.”

“And what would that be, might I ask?”

“You can’t guess?” the inquisitor lifted her hand, revealing her empty wine glass. “I’ve needed a refill for the longest time.”

“Ah. Silly me. I should have known we were late for our tri-hourly trip to the bar.”

“Are you suggesting we not go?”

“Oh, heavens, no. I’m nowhere near drunk. We have some work to do.”

The two sauntered toward the bar cart, picking up two more glasses of champagne each. The elves serving them gave each other wary looks at seeing the pair so often, but were instructed by Celene to treat the inquisitor and her guests with the upmost respect, which included providing her with whatever she requested during her stay in Val Royeaux. Celene insisted this request, as they were staying in the city to celebrate the success of defeating Corypheus. So, the elves continued to serve the inquisitor. 

“Can we take these to the balcony?” The inquisitor nodded her head towards the doors leading out of the ballroom.

“I’m following you.” Dorian replied. 

Once outside, the two posted themselves against the railing.

“Don’t look now,” Dorian’s eyes darted to the left of the inquisitor. “But you have eyes on you.”

The inquisitor turned to look behind her shoulder. She caught a man’s head turning down towards his feet.

“I said _not_ to look,” Dorian said. 

“I heard you. But I wanted to see who thought they were in competition with our dear commander.”

“I more so think they’re wondering if they’re in competition with _me_. A strapping young man from Tevinter to accompany the inquisitor at her victory ball? We haven’t left each other’s side all evening, people will definitely talk.”

“Cullen would be so discouraged.” The inquisitor said airily, smiling. “We should continue the charade.”

“How naughty!” Dorian curled one end of his mouth up. “I adore your mind.”

From inside the ballroom, the orchestra began playing. The inquisitor tipped her glasses back and downed them, offering Dorian her hand. “Shall we?”

He copied her with ease in finishing his drinks, then took her hand and threaded it through a bent arm. “We shall.”

On the dance floor, Dorian and the inquisitor floated around the other pairs, effortlessly spinning and minding to keep in step with the music. The inquisitor had joked that the drink would make the dancing harder, but it in fact made them lighter and malleable. Basically boneless and dictated by the melody, Dorian and the Inquisitor moved with the strings, adjusting their speed with the hand of the violin. They freely pranced along for many numbers, only exiting the ballroom and back to the main hall when they were sure their legs couldn’t hop a single more step. As desired, the entire court began to eye the couple with upmost intrigue. Everyone wanted to see just who the valiant Slayer of Corypheus had wrapped around her hip.

“That was positively exhilarating. Inquisitor, you _do_ know how to summon an audience. I’d say most of the ball watched us.”

“Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to _not_ possess that skill? As _inquisitor_?”

“It would be simply humiliating. We can only be thankful that the court thinks I’m instead bedding the most charismatic woman of Thedas. Can’t say I’m not enjoying the thought of what your status would bring me were we truly an item.”

“Alas,” The inquisitor looked off wistfully into the distance. 

“Alas.” Dorian turned to survey the hall. “Thirsty?”

“I thought you’d never ask—”

“Pardon me, Lady Inquisitor,” an Orlesian noble approached, adorned in emeralds and silk. His mask was in the shape a bird beak, which dazzled whenever light from the hanging chandeliers would hit it from a different angle. “But might I ask who your guest is tonight?”

Dorian gave the inquisitor a glance, twitching a smile. 

“You might. Please let me introduce Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel, and already a renowned enchanter of the Inquisition.” The inquisitor gave a look to Dorian this time. “Also whom I spend most of my outings with recently.”

The Orlesian noble bowed before them, rolling his arms down and out. “It is my absolute pleasure to stand before you both, then.”

Dorian and the inquisitor humored the noble in conversation only briefly before beelining for the bar cart once more, this time harassing the elves for the whereabouts of the hors d'oeuvre plates as well as asking for two additional glasses of wine each. Being directed back to the balconies, Dorian and the inquisitor loaded up their hands with as many loaded crackers and stuffed rolls as they could carry before sitting down leaning, once again, against the railing of the balcony.

“These are delicious. We should hire the cooks here into the inquisition.” Dorian licked his fingers.

“You think I can do that?”

“You defeated Corypheus, built an army and rose to fame as one of Thedas’ greatest heroes, and you’re wondering if you can hire a cook? Are you mad?”

“I think modest is the correct term, Dorian.” The inquisitor smirked at him.

“And you so terribly are. Now, please promise me you’ll try to elect the chef.”

“For you, dear, anything.”

“How you humble me.” Dorian poured the contents of one glass into the other he was holding. “One glass is so much easier to hold.”

The inquisitor set an empty glass down next to his. “Or, you could just drink it.”

“You’re making me feel as if I need to catch up.”

“You _do_ need to catch up.”

Dorian responded with another swig of his glass. 

“Tell me, inquisitor,” Dorian began. “how is Cullen in bed?”

The inquisitor laughed, her cheeks burning rouge. “I’m surprised you’ve never asked.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Dorian peered at her and brought a hand to cradle his head with a finger and thumb, intending to disperse her embarrassment with a more playful disposition. “I simply want to know if our commander is as lovely to you as I make him out to be.”

The inquisitor put her hands to her face, hiding it. Dorian knew he would get an answer from the shaking of her shoulders in laughter. She was amusing him.

“He…. Oh, Dorian, he’s wonderful,” The inquisitor uncovered her face. “Perfectly splendid, in fact. He’s very kind to me.”

Dorian smirked at her. “Not all the time, I hope?”

“When it…. suits me.” She reached for her glass, finishing it. “Now, you must tell me something.”

“I’m an open book, my dear. Ask away.”

“Since when have you and Iron Bull been seeing each other for… late night games of wicked grace?”

“It is _the_ Iron Bull, actually-“

“Avoiding the question, I see? Hypocrisy is a terrible look for someone like you, Dorian.”

Dorian huffed. “Since.. the siege at Adamant.”

“Dorian! I would be more offended were I not so impressed. I never had a clue until after our victory.”

“Yes, well. I suppose that’s the sort of secrecy you pick up when you live in a Tevinter family attached to the Magisterium. They do love their careful breeding.”

“Did you… feel like you had to keep that a secret from me?” her face and tone fell enough for Dorian to notice.

“Oh, my dear, no,” Dorian shifted to sit closer to the inquisitor, inviting her to lean against him. She obliged. “It was merely habit, I promise. It was also good for me to feel.. I don’t know, perhaps invisible with him. Or opaque. I think the wine is talking now. I just mean I liked it being just… Bull and I. You understand, yes?”

“You know I always do. I respect your privacy Dorian, I do. But, know that I am here for you. I’d never judge or test your boundaries.”

“I… appreciate that, inquisitor. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.” The inquisitor made a move to stand up, offering Dorian her hand to assist him upright as well. “What would you say to another glass of wine?”

“I would say to question my sanity if I replied with ‘no’.”

“As it appears, then, your sanity is intact.”

“How gracious of my mind to not let itself go.”

“Shall we go to the bar cart?”

“We shall.” Dorian offered her his elbow, which she took with a certain grace and firmness that allowed him to feel comfortable thinking he would remain close with her for as long as time would allow it.


	4. Sir Rutherford is Mr. Darcy Kin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i've been reading pride and prejudice recently, and i also want to be jane austen so here u are. it's also fun to rip on cullen for his old shitty opinions. the da brain worms have now mocked classic fiction

“Are you ready to depart, my Ladyship? Your advisors have asked that I come to fetch your belongings. We are beginning to load up your carriage.” A nameless soldier stood in the doorway of the guest room, and hovered there until he was motioned inside. 

“Yes, I should have all my things collected now.” Lady Trevelyan went to move her bags, but the soldier insisted on carrying them. Hesitantly, Lady Trevelyan agreed. “It has been very kind of the empress to allow us to stay. We’ve managed to accomplish quite a bit for the Inquisition in our time here.”

“Empress Celene would have been here to say it herself had she not been called to the Emprise Du Lion, but she willed me to tell you the Inquisition is welcome at Halamshiral anytime. Orlais will not forget what you did for us with the duchess.” The soldier said. 

“It would please me a great deal to find myself at the Winter Palace again, perhaps when I have business in Orlais next, or when we find ourselves victorious against Corypheus.” Said Trevelyan. 

“I’m sure Empress Celene would be delighted to hear you enjoyed your stay and wish to return so soon or for such an occasion.” The soldier excused himself from further conversation, and went to tie up the Inquisitor’s trunks to the carriage. 

Lady Trevelyan was left to the grandeur of the room she had been staying in for the past fortnight. It wasn’t the grandness of the room, the circle tower in Ostwick was plenty large and spacious. But the palace was so incredibly ornate. Deep blues and gold accents filled each room, and large plush curtains fell onto smooth marbled floors. The empress had impeccable taste in décor and furnishings indeed, and the aspect of Halamshiral was worth noting. The doorknobs in particular Lady Trevelyan liked, as well as the many marble lion busts throughout the palace. 

In the process of building an army and influence among the people, she found herself in Orlais often. It was an urban hub, ripe with opportunity and a perfect platform to run into people of noteworthy class and status. However, her favorite part of traveling to Orlais was having the new honor of rooming with the empress in her luxurious estate. It was one of the numerous things Lady Trevelyan thought of when going over how little she missed her life at the circle. 

Soon enough, the soldier returned to collect Lady Trevelyan, and took her down to the courtyard where her carriage, as well as three others, awaited. The trunks were secured, drivers ready, and her three advisors, Lady Pentaghast, and Solas all stood nearby.

“Ah, Lady Trevelyan, it is good of you to join us when you have. We were just discussing our plans for preparation once we return to Skyhold.” Lady Montilyet said. 

“We believe our next move should be to deal with the Grey Wardens. The throne in Orlais is secure for now; it gives us reason to follow up with other matters.” Sir Rutherford added. 

“We have two Grey Warden connections I can reach out to, should we want to involve them.” Leliana said. 

“If you speak of the Hero of Ferelden and Sir Theirin, I advise we contact them regardless. They’re powerful allies, and Thedas remembering the Hero being a mage might allow its people to digest easier that the Inquisitor is one as well.” Lady Montilyet said. 

“It is worth it to try, I agree.” Lady Trevelyan said.

“So it is decided. I shall look into where those two might be. At least it should be easy to find one if I find the other. I don’t think they’ve left each other’s side since the last blight.” Leliana said. “In any matter, it can be done once we arrive back.”

The inquisition loaded up into the carriages, separating to two per cart; Solas and Lady Pentaghast, Lady Motiliyet and Leliana, and Sir Rutherford and Lady Trevelyan. The last cart held more luggage, and a handful of Inquisition soldiers. A few nobles and other palace staff waved them off, most without any notes of condescension. 

The ride back to Skyhold would be a long one, about two days, which did not bother Lady Trevelyan as much as she thought it would, come the day. The Commander was agreeable enough company, or what she had encountered of him thus far, albeit she found him slightly stoic. Though they had been working together for just over three months, Lady Trevelyan couldn’t recall many conversations to be had with the Commander that were not about the Inquisition. She realized that _he_ may very well know more about _her_. If that was the case, she did not deem it a fair basis of knowledge of the other. However, Sir Rutherford kept his gaze looking out of the barouche, and as such, it deterred Lady Trevelyan from attempting conversation at first. 

Two hours passed this way, with nothing but silence and the occasional remark of good weather or fair traveling conditions or the beauty of Halamshiral. Had Lady Trevelyan thought Sir Rutherford reserved before, she certainly thought so now. With the greater part of a two day’s journey ahead of her, she decided she should be the one to initiate dialogue with the Commander, or she should be condemned to the most dreadfully quiet chaise ride. 

“So, Commander,” When she said this, Cullen startled a bit, flinching his gaze from outside. She could have guessed he was not expecting her to speak. “Where are you from?” 

Composing himself, he answered, “I was in Kirkwall before this.”

“In Kirkwall? Did you grow up there?”

“No.”

“Do you have family in Kirkwall?”

“No, my Ladyship.”

“Then where on earth are you _from_?” she asked him this teasingly.

“I was born in Honnleath. I lived there for some time with my siblings and parents.”

“I’ve never been to Honnleath.”

“There’s not much in Honnleath. You’re not missing out.”

Lady Trevelyan pondered on this for a brief moment before saying, “I should still like to see it.”

“You would be disappointed to see it is the same Ferelden forests and mountains you could find elsewhere.”

“Perhaps, but at least _I_ would have seen it and been able to judge for myself. I never could go anywhere in the circle.”

Cullen did not reply to this, but his eyes lingered on her for a moment before turning back to look outside. He was snapped back seconds later, however, by Trevelyan talking once more. 

“For some time?” said she. 

“I beg your pardon, Inquisitor?”

“You said you lived in Honnleath, _‘for some time’_. Where did you go?” 

“I was…. found by a templar and recruited into the order. I was trained elsewhere as I got better, and eventually I was stationed in.. other parts of Ferelden.” Cullen shifted uncomfortably where he sat. 

“But you’ve still not told me where you went. How did you end up in Kirkwall? Were you there for long?”

“For about ten years I lived in Kirkwall as the knight-commander, until Lady Pentaghast asked that I join her in coming back to Ferelden for her cause.” He said. 

“I see.” Trevelyan paused, furrowing her brows. “So, ten years ago you were living in Ferelden? Does that mean you were here during the blight?” Lady Trevelyan’s interest piqued. “You must have incredible stories, or hearsay that locals know.”

“Yes, I was in Ferelden during the blight, but my stories of it are… not so fond.” Cullen looked down once more. “I was stationed at Kinloch Hold at the time.”

“Kinloch Hold? You were stationed at the _circle_?” Trevelyan did her best to suppress her surprise, and sudden desire to sit in Solas’ carriage instead. 

“For a time. I was… moved, however, after what happened there.” Cullen did his best to not look at the Inquisitor. 

“What happened at the circle was terrible. We heard all about it at Ostwick. I remember templar presence doubled after Kinloch fell.”

“As it should have been. Blood magic should never have been spread throughout the tower like it was.”

“Perhaps the means of magic were off, yes, but were all the extra guards necessary? It was not even in our tower. I just can’t help but wonder.” Lady Trevelyan said, trying to maintain a level disposition. 

“Magic is dangerous at times. I’ve seen what harm it can do. I cannot blame the templars for heightening their numbers, especially after Kinloch and the evil we witnessed there.” Said he. 

“Dangerous? Do you forget I myself am a mage, and that such things you speak of also apply to me, Commander?”

“All I mean to say is magic should be watched. It is not to be trusted freely. I meant no offense to you, in particular.”

“Or, that you think magic should be _leashed_. What you mean when you say magic should be watched, is that it should be guarded and constricted. Should myself and my fellow mages really be confined to life in a tower and constantly viewed upon as a threat waiting to happen, because of abilities I have that you do not? Is it simply because it frightens you, Commander, that I have access to something you do not yet understand?” Lady Trevelyan felt her face become hot, and she found it increasingly more difficult to hide just how enraged she had become. 

“Templars don’t just exist to confine mages to your towers. They are there to enforce laws against blood magic, and to protect mages that live in the tower from corruption.”

“Fine, then have laws against blood magic and other evils, but I believe it wrong to lock us all up like dogs on the basis of a presupposition. Do not equate your protection to striking down mages, as if that is the same thing.” She gave a small huff, and this time, Lady Trevelyan was the one to turn her gaze outside. How miserably that had gone! How could he have such opinions of mages? Had he not the slightest idea of the ignorance he spoke of? And to one who _had_ been a circle mage? Trevelyan felt an incredible amount of incredulousness about this. It had crossed her mind that people might see her differently, but her own advisor? She realized her feelings were more hurt than cross.

Lady Trevelyan tried to drain out the presence of Sir Rutherford for the time being, and listened to the hoof steps of the horses and the rustling of the wheels on dirt clod roads for what seemed like a very long time. She could not put her mind at rest. Was Sir Rutherford’s view so poorly of her? She could admit she fancied him from their first meeting, but she now wondered if the Commander could even have the capacity to see her as something other than a mage to fear and mistrust. Lady Trevelyan refrained from starting further conversation, in hopes the chaise would arrive sooner and in silence, and as to avoid any more conversations that would ignite such a response from her or him. She supposed part of the blame for the mishap had been on her for turning the chatting in the direction it did, but how was she to know the Commander would harbor such thoughts? 

Most of the day had passed, and the sun had begun to set across the mountains, painting the rocks and trees gold with light, before Sir Rutherford was the one to speak again, this time startling Lady Trevelyan: “I… apologize if I offended you earlier. It is easy for me to forgive the order for what they do and speak on their behalf, but I also saw the grip they have on mages turn catastrophic in Kirkwall. I’ve seen as good as anyone that the Templar order has strayed from its original deed, and is in dire need of revision and, in some ways, abolition. I am not blind to this. And, I should also tell you, I have had every reason to fear magic in the past. Do not also forget that I was amongst the sole survivors of my brothers after what happened in the circle at Kinloch. It is… difficult to speak of, but I would not wish onto anyone the horrors I endured or watched as my fellow templars were slain by demons and mages wicked with power…” Sir Rutherford said. He looked out at the sun and left his words where they left him.

“I have… heard enough. I am truly sorry for whatever happened those days. However, it would be wise of you to not think so immediately poorly of mages and magic in the future. It can be put to as much good as it can be put to bad. As you said, you were a templar. You should know this firsthand.” She said.

“You… are right, my Ladyship. My behavior earlier shames me, as does how I used to perceive and speak of mages. Since I have left the order recently, and for the past few years, I have felt myself become distant with the Templars and the way they see things. Part of it is lyrium… I know that’s cheap, but somehow…. Oh, nevermind. Either way. I hope you can forgive me for my ill and misplaced words, although I would understand if that were not possible.” Sir Rutherford finished his thoughts, and turned his gaze once more. 

Trevelyan stared at the Commander, realizing how close she was to him in the carriage. She held her eyes on him for some minutes, going over the hard lines on his face and the creases that normally showed with more age than what he had. Her gaze eventually found the scar that sat across Sir Rutherford’s lip. She guessed he must have gotten it form his time with the templars. If that were the case, she thought, then the healing mages in the tower would have patched him up. She then thought it must not have been the most skilled healer, to leave a scar, but on closer inspection, and the longer she looked, she could see small suture lines. His scar was hand sewn. Had he refused help from healing magics out of his own fear? Lady Trevelyan sat with this, puzzled. 

“Your scar-“ Lady Trevelyan said this before she realized she was saying it.

Sir Rutherford’s head spun to face her, and he immediately brought a hand to his mouth.

“Sorry, I-“ Lady Trevelyan fumbled for words. “I did not mean to stare. I just—” 

“I got it at Kinloch. A demon gave it to me while I was… trapped with them.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been terrible, to have that kind of experience with mages.” Lady Trevelyan burned with guilt for foolishly bringing it up.

“It was… but, that is something for me to work out, Inquisitor. And for what it’s worth,” Cullen crossed one arm across his chest, meeting his heart with his fist. “I apologize on behalf of my old order for the things they may have put you through, as well.”

Trevelyan gave him a polite smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Commander.”

“I also want you to know that… I do think very highly of you. And… I think a mage is exactly what Thedas needs now, against Corypheus.” Cullen returned her smile, and accompanied with his words, she forgot how angry she had been all day at him. Perhaps Sir Rutherford had been wrong to slander all mages, but there were times Lady Trevelyan could remember vehemently defending magic when nothing should have been said, or times she knew she felt her pride of templars affect her so terribly. It was the main reason she never went to the knight-commander about assisting the inquisition. So, she felt resolute on letting the matter stand, knowing Sir Rutherford was lending his support to an army of inquisition mages regardless of his past.

“So,” Lady Trevelyan began again. “You said you had siblings?”

“Yes, I have three. My eldest sister Mia, and my two younger siblings, my brother Barson and sister Rosalie. Do…. You have any siblings?” said he. 

“I’m told I had a sister, but I do not remember encountering her. The Ostwick Circle took me in very young, before I could even really remember my parents”

“I cannot imagine not knowing of my own family. Does it bother you?”

“Oh, sometimes, sure. But I still made friends in the circle. I was doing pretty well for myself before I got this mark on my hand. Best in my classes, performing my own research. I spent lots of time in the library.”

“And yet, you say you do not miss the circle.”

“True, I do not. But I did love it in _my_ circle, you understand? I did not enjoy being locked up, but I will say my books and education brought me a great deal of joy.”

“That’s part of the reason I liked the order. It was good to be a part of something, and it was even better to be skilled at it. I moved very swiftly along in my training process, even entering so late along.”

“So, you’ve always been the good little soldier?” Trevelyan teased. 

“It seems _you’ve_ always been the teacher’s pet.” He returned.

Lady Trevelyan laughed. “Oh, please, you think _every_ experiment was first enchanter approved? The circle towers got terribly boring in winter. We had to find _something_ to do.” 

“I assume you got creative, then?”

“Oh, very. Perhaps on a slow day at Skyhold I could show you. I will need some elfroot, however.”

“I think my scouts can manage to collect a few of those for us.” Sir Rutherford said. “They seem to grow like weeds.”

Small conversation continued to grow, and before long the carriage had stopped, to the surprise of both Sir Rutherford and Lady Trevelyan. The elven driver approached the side door, where he said, “We have reached our camp for the night, Inquisitor. I’ve been told Lady Montilyet has a list of points she would like discuss before we all settle down.” He assisted the Inquisitor out of the chaise, saluted Sir Rutherford, and walked off to join the other drivers. 

A meal was made over a fire and served, and before long the party was retiring to sleep. Trevelyan had resigned herself to do the same, when she heard footsteps approach. She turned to face Sir Rutherford.

“I just wanted to come and apologize one last time for my words this morning. It was terribly unbecoming of me, and I want you to know that I do not stand by them. They came from a place of deep hurt.” He brought a hand to the back of his neck.

“I assure you, Commander, there are no hard feelings. Whatever we exchanged earlier we have since sorted out, and I hold no lasting ill will towards you. I realize we come from different places, and that I will always hold some prejudice in favor of magic, just as you will probably always harbor some fear for magic. I think you no worse than myself. Besides, it is evident you and I each want for the other group to improve. Is that not all we can ask for? Improvement?”

“I say you are right. Your kindness on the matter is… unexpected, to say the least, but I am greatly humbled. I have always wanted to find a path that would allow me to do better for the world, or to help people. I believe, now, that path lies with the Inquisition. And with you. I am honored to be your war commander, my Ladyship.” He said.

“The honor is all mine to have you on my side, Commander. We have lots of work to do together.”


End file.
